


Gold and Green

by RhymePhile



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Reality, Awesome Sam, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Christmas, Dean in Denial, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Matchmaker Sam, Men of Letters Headquarters, POV Sam Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Romance, Schmoop, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:52:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhymePhile/pseuds/RhymePhile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate Reality set directly after the finale of Season 8. Sam is recovering from the Trials when he learns Cas hasn't made it back to the bunker after falling to Earth. As Christmas approaches, Sam knows his brother needs Castiel in his life, even if Dean doesn't realize it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gold and Green

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KairiKuchiki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KairiKuchiki/gifts).



> Based on the prompt "It's Cas' first Christmas as a human, and Dean and Sam try to make it special for him."

The steady flash of color behind his eyelids woke him first, followed by the sounds of Dean's rhythmic snoring coming from the chair beside his bed. He kept seeing red, then green, then yellow, followed by blue blinking impressions, and when he opened his eyes he realized Dean had strung Christmas lights all around his room for some reason.

His brother was slumped in the chair next to him, arm draped over the side, head stuffed into the corner of its cushion at an awkward angle. Dean must have dragged the heavy leather armchair all the way through the hallway and placed it next to the bed to keep watch over him. He felt like he was seven years old again, suffering with a high fever that didn't break until Dean, alone and on his own, filled the tub with cool water to bring his temperature down. He wondered how many times his brother had to do that, to sit and watch Sam with that worried look on his face that he always insisted meant he wasn't actually worried at all.

Dean hovered and mothered and fussed every time Sam had a sniffle when he was a kid. Even when they were grown he realized it was better not to fight it. He let Dean do what he did best, which was take care of his little brother.

Sam pushed himself up on the pillow slightly, fighting a wave of nausea. They were back in the bunker, obviously, yet he couldn't remember getting there. He noticed his arms were wrapped tightly in bandages, which were slightly discolored from seeping blood. The last thing he could recall was the church, and Crowley, and Dean pleading with him not to finish the Trials, and then...

He felt hot, like something was on fire inside him. He remembered his arms pulsing with light, and then the sensation of a force so strong that it nearly deafened him as it rushed through his head, twisting and turning, threatening to burst from every pore of his skin. Flames danced in front of his eyes, seared his tongue, and burnt his flesh as the overwhelming power bit and clawed its way to be released. It coursed through his blood, burning a path of purpose and _desire_ as it tore at his insides, strengthening his will to close the Gates of Hell forever. 

He was prepared to sacrifice himself. He was ready for all of it to be over.

But then he was outside in the cooling rain, sitting in the mud against the Impala, watching the sky burst into thousands of cascading fireballs. He felt Dean holding him and telling him everything was going to be just fine, like he always did when the world was close to ending. He remembered asking what was happening and Dean responding that the angels were falling.

And then, nothing. There was no recollection of driving to the bunker, nor of Dean nursing him back to health, nor of even getting up to go to the bathroom for that matter. Everything was shrouded in a dull, painful fog. 

Sam closed his eyes and waited for the wave of dizziness that hit him to pass and make the Christmas lights stop melting together.

Dean must have heard him stir, because he was at his side in an instant.

"Sammy?"

He felt his hair being brushed away from his face and realized he was much sicker than he thought. It had become a habit with Dean -- he would sit and gently rub Sam's head when he couldn't think of any other way to help. That fever when he was seven was one of those times. 

Sam opened his eyes and saw the relief wash over his brother's face. Yeah, definitely sicker than he thought. He made a move to try and sit up, but Dean pressed his palm against Sam's chest.

"Easy there, Sammy. If you fall out of bed there's a damn good chance I won't be able to get you back in." He smiled and pulled the chair closer. "You're bigger than you think, little brother."

"Dean -- "

"Are you thirsty? I have water right here."

Sam nodded, now painfully aware of his dry throat and mouth.

After drinking two glasses of water, he was able to pull himself up higher on the pillow without the room spinning. "Dean, how did I get here?"

"You don't remember?"

"Nothing after the church."

Dean nodded, and sat back down. "You've been in and out of it for a while."

"How long is that?"

Dean lifted a thumb at the Christmas lights. "Santa's on his way in a few days."

" _What_?"

"After the church I packed you into the Impala and hauled ass back here. We've been lookin' after you ever since."

"You and Cas?"

A strange look passed over Dean's face. "No. He...it's complicated."

"I don't understand."

"Kevin and I have been taking care of you. You've had a hell of a fever. Talkin' out of your head, goin' on about weird shit, just like you did when you were a kid. We've been makin' sure you eat, and drink, and whatever else. Changing your dressings."

Sam pulled back the blankets to find his torso and the tops of his thighs swathed in bandages.

"What the hell?"

"Burns. Pretty bad ones. We've been washing and treating them for weeks now."

Sam carefully peeled back one of the dressings to reveal the healing red skin underneath. The power surging through him during the Trials had blistered him on the outside as well.

"You don't remember any of that?" Dean asked.

"No. Kevin's here?"

"Safe as a prophet in a rug. We got Crowley locked up downstairs, too."

"When did that -- "

"Long story short? Kevin made it back here to the bunker. After I dropped you off, I went back and stuffed Crowley into the trunk, then devil-trapped his limey ass in our dungeon. He'll be useful later."

"What about the falling angels?"

"Fell," Dean said, his voice tinged with what sounded like regret. "On top of everything else, now we got thousands of ex-God junkies swarmin' the planet."

"Is that what happened to Cas? He fell?"

Dean nodded. "Metatron took his grace. He's essentially human."

"Then where is he?"

"He called me when all this first started, tellin' me Metatron had tricked him and that it was a spell that caused the angels to fall. I told him you were sick and for him to get his ass to the bunker because the angels were lookin' for him and they're pissed. There's a war on and they're gunning for Cas, Sammy."

"And he never made it?"

"Kevin's been helpin' me track him down. No luck so far."

"You're worried."

"Nah," Dean answered, without meeting Sam's eyes.

"You're also lying."

Dean looked up at that. 

"We have to find him, Dean. He may have been watching humanity for thousands of years, but you know how he is with the day-to-day stuff. And he may be a trained warrior of God, but if what you said is true and there are angels hunting him, it won't matter how good he is if he's human."

"I know, Sam. I've kinda had my hands full here."

Sam realized that Dean had been waiting for him to recover before he could do anything to help Cas. 

It made Sam feel guilty, knowing how Dean put him above everything else, even himself. It had always been like that: Dean sacrificing and protecting, Sam wishing Dean could allow himself the opportunity to be something other than "Sam's big brother." Dean took John's admonitions to heart, devoting his entire existence to Sam, unwilling to deviate from what he considered his life's mission. He even went to _Hell_ for him. It was also why Dean had never had a relationship longer than the time it took to eat a cheeseburger after a quickie in a motel room.

When Cas came into their lives, Sam knew something had changed even if Dean didn't. 

Dean had never done things the easy way. Everything was a struggle: from raising Sam, to dealing with John, to hunting, to trusting anyone other than the guy whose name began with Bobby and ended with Singer. Life was black or white, right or wrong, human or monster, and Dean had no problems with it until an angel laid siege to Hell and saved the man who didn't think he was worthy of salvation. That's when Sam noticed things around Dean had turned slightly gray.

Sam knew Dean was hesitant around Castiel at first. He didn't trust easily, especially someone who wasn't exactly human. Sam had to admit Cas proved himself worthy, after rebelling from Heaven and sacrificing himself time and again for Dean. Or for both of them. But, Sam knew, mostly for Dean. There was a profound bond, after all.

As the years went on he could see its effects on the two of them -- Dean telling Cas what he was thinking or feeling first, Cas always coming when Dean called, Dean ready to forgive when their trust was broken, Cas killing his own brothers and sisters to protect the Winchesters, Dean battling through Purgatory to bring Cas back with him. It had become a cycle over the years of sacrifice, betrayal, hypocrisy, and ultimately forgiveness.

Sam couldn't see it as anything other than devotion, although he was considerate enough when they were all together not to mention how obvious it was. He could see it in the way Cas looked at Dean from his bedside back when Alastair had almost killed the two of them. It reminded him of how he would sometimes catch himself staring at Jess, knowing they were surrounded by a hundred people in a bar but feeling like they were the only ones in the room.

As for Dean, Sam knew he probably felt the same way but didn't know how to admit it.

"Why are you lookin' at me like that?" Dean asked. 

"You...uh, haven't been able to search for him 'cause of me, right?"

"Well, he last called from Longmont, Colorado. We've been keepin' our ears on, checkin' the scanners and the web for anything, y'know, Cas-like. But yeah. I wasn't goin' anywhere until you were better."

"We'll find him, Dean."

"I know we will. Look, you're not -- "

"Bring me a map of Colorado. We can create a search radius to correspond with any unusual reports or demon signs we find."

"Kevin already designed a search algorithm to find stuff online."

"Good," Sam said, propping pillow behind him so that he could sit up straighter. "That'll make things easier."

"Sammy."

"Bring me that map, Dean," Sam said, making it clear he wasn't listening to any of Dean's protests. "We'll leave the moment we find something."

* * * *

It took two days and Sam swearing to Dean he was fine and that he wasn't going to let him search for Cas on his own before they were on the road.

"Tell me again what the sergeant said," Sam said, looking over the map.

"He said some crazy guy walked off with someone's coat at a KOA campground in Gothenburg, Nebraska."

"Define 'crazy.'"

"The sergeant said the guy claimed he was going to fly but that he didn't have his wings anymore."

Sam nodded. "And they arrested him?"

"For theft and vagrancy, apparently. He was staying in one of the empty campground cabins."

"Sounds like something he learned from you," Sam pointed out.

"Yeah," Dean said, grinning. "Guess I didn't teach him the part about not gettin' arrested, though."

Sam traced his finger across the map. "Looks like he's been following Route 80 to get back to Kansas. I wonder why he didn't find a car?"

"You remember how long it took you to learn to hotwire a car, Sam? He's human. I'm not even sure Cas knows how to take a crap yet."

"He might be afraid," Sam said.

"Of the angels? He's in danger, yeah, but he's lost his powers before."

"Not like this, Dean. _Everything_ is new to him. Pain, hunger, thirst, cold. Can you imagine how that must feel?"

"Like he's a baby in a trench coat," he sighed.

"You said it yourself. He's pretty tough for a little nerdy dude with wings."

"Only he's been out here without his powers and who knows what else all this time."

"He's already traveled a long way," Sam said, pointing to the map. "Now he'll be back at the bunker in time for Christmas."

"Home, you mean."

"What?"

"He'll be home for Christmas. The bunker is home."

"Since when?" Sam asked.

"Since the moment we opened that vault door, Sammy. It's the first time we've ever been totally safe. No weird-smelling motel rooms, no cold fast food. We have hot showers and beds of our own and a kitchen. A _kitchen_ , Sam. No more microwave burritos for me, man."

"You want Cas to be a part of that?"

"Of course. He's family. He deserves that."

"So you've forgiven him?" Sam asked.

"For doing what he thought was the right thing and getting tricked by Metatron? Yeah."

"Why?"

Dean shrugged. "Because it's Cas."

Sam smiled, recalling their conversation a few weeks earlier. "That's not what you said when Cas came back to the bunker after losing the angel tablet."

"Yeah, well."

"You've forgiven him for a lot."

"I guess," Dean said, looking at him. Then he shook his head and glanced back at the road. "Why are we talkin' about this?"

"I don't know. Because we never do?"

"I tell you lots of stuff."

"You tell me what you feel like telling me," Sam said, looking at him. "Not what you _should_ be telling me."

"Oh really? And what's that?"

"How you're feeling."

"Fine. Super. No problems at all. A thousand angels fell to Earth and you were so out of it from the Trials that parts of your skin practically melted, but hell, I'm doin' great."

"That's not what I meant, Dean."

"You mean my _feelings_?" He rolled his eyes. "Here we go."

"You never open up to me -- "

Sam was interrupted by the sound of Dean's loud scoff.

"I don't know why you're so bent on doing all of this alone," Sam said to him. "You're not. You have me. And Cas."

"And Kevin? What about Garth? Sittin' them down and tellin' them how I _feel_ is high on my list, y'know."

Sam wanted to bang his head against the glass of the passenger side window. Dean was never one to be open about his feelings, but after all they'd suffered over the past few years he felt Dean had become more closed off than ever. They used to talk all the time when they were younger. It was him and Sam against the world he liked to say. Sam didn't know when that had changed. Maybe after going to Hell for him. Or the hundred other psychological and physical shocks he'd suffered. Whatever it was, Dean had put his walls up and there was no breaking through them.

"Are you afraid to tell me what you're feeling?" Sam asked.

"No."

"You're lying again."

"Dammit, Sam," he said angrily, "what do you want me to say?"

"Cas and I are always here for you, Dean."

" _You_ are, Sam."

"Cas has given up a lot for you."

"And he didn't listen to me about the goddamn souls -- didn't trust me -- just like he didn't trust me about the angel tablet."

Sam's decisions about demon blood and Lilith came into sharp focus.

"He was doing what he thought was right at the time."

"He was thinkin' he could do all this on his own. He never thinks he needs help. For all the years we've known him, the angel thing gets in the way."

"He's been there when you need him."

"Like hell. He's always runnin' off. Always leavin' when shit hits the fan, when the world is fallin' down around my ears."

"Have you told him that?"

"What?"

"That you need him to stay," Sam said, looking at his brother.

Dean met Sam's eyes, and then turned back to the road. He didn't say anything for the rest of the trip.

* * * *

The Gothenburg Police Department was in a single story brick building across from a supermarket on the town's main street. Dean parked the Impala in the small lot and made their way inside.

"We're looking for the booking sergeant," Sam said to the desk officer. "We're here about the vagrant picked up at the campground the other day."

The officer rolled her eyes. "Sure. The angel."

She led them back into booking where they met with the sergeant Dean had talked to on the phone. The area was small, and directly behind the desk were the cells.

The moment they walked in Cas stood up and wrapped his hands around the bars. He was wearing jeans two sizes too big, boots without laces, and a thin T-shirt. It was no wonder he tried to steal the coat in the middle of a Nebraska winter. Dean locked eyes with him, and a look of relief passed over both their faces.

" _Dean_." 

Castiel's voice wavered when he said it, either from emotion or exhaustion, Sam couldn't tell.

"Heya, Cas," Dean said. "You sit tight for a minute. We'll have you outta here."

"I didn't intend to steal that man's coat, Dean. But I've never felt temperatures like this and I didn't know what else to do. Hello, Sam."

"Hi, Cas."

"You're looking much better than when I last saw you."

Dean held a hand up to silence him and smiled at the booking sergeant. "He's originally from Florida. Y'know how hot it gets. Cold gets to him quicker."

"My grandma lives in Florida," the sergeant said. "Too humid for me down there."

"Uh-huh. Look, what's it gonna cost to bail him out?"

"The guy whose coat he stole took one look at him and didn't want to press charges. But the owners of the campground are pretty pissed he was squatting."

"I cleaned up after I was done," Castiel pointed out. "I even swept the ashes from the fireplace. You have no idea how difficult that was without a broom."

"They're still pissed."

"We're from Kansas," Sam said. "Can we offer the campground owners restitution through you so we can get him home?"

"You're taking me home?" Castiel asked, his head pressed against the bars to better hear their conversation. "To the bunker?"

"Yeah, Cas," Dean said to him. "Can you shut up now?"

"Bunker?" the sergeant said.

"It's very orderly there. Have you purchased the ping pong table yet, Dean?" Castiel called.

"Can we just get goin'? How much does he owe?" Dean asked.

"The owners said it looked like he had been camped out there for a week."

"And no one noticed he was there?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Not until they saw smoke coming from the chimney of an unrented cabin," the sergeant said.

"That was on the last day I was there," Castiel said. "I wish I had fallen to Earth in Florida. Despite its humidity, it sounds warm."

"He's been talking like that since we brought him in here," the sergeant whispered.

"You know how it is in Florida," Sam whispered back.

"How much is this gonna cost?" Dean asked, getting annoyed.

"Normal campground rates are $44 a day," the sergeant said.

"In _summer_ maybe," Dean scoffed.

"Uh, that's fine, sergeant," Sam said, getting out his wallet. He fished out a couple of bills. "There's a little extra there for the owners' inconvenience."

"There's also bail," the sergeant said.

"Of course," Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Two hundred for the two days in jail."

"That's fine," Sam said, handing over a few more bills. "Thank you for taking such good care of him, sarge."

"I did have a blanket here, Sam," Cas said from behind the bars. "And they fed me as well."

The sergeant opened the cell door and led Castiel behind the desk. "Give me a few minutes to process him out. Make sure he completes the release paperwork."

"You got it," Sam said, and he and Dean went into the station lobby to wait for Cas to be handed back to them.

* * * *

When they left the police station Dean held Cas by the shoulders and turned him around.

"Lemme look at you, man."

"I'm fine, Dean."

Dean took off his coat and wrapped it around Castiel. "You're not hurt or anything, right?"

Cas lifted his threadbare shirt to show them a bandaged wound over the right side of his stomach that had been seeping through the dressing. "The wound from the angel tablet was healing slowly when I Fell, and I haven't fully recovered. Or maybe I'm just hungry. It's hard to tell."

Sam peeled back the edge of the bandage to get a closer look at the wound. "This dressing needs to be changed, Cas."

"Now you're gonna have to heal the old-fashioned human way," Dean said. "Like Sam."

"Are you injured, Sam?"

Sam rolled up the sleeves of his coat to show off his still-bandaged arms.

"Is that a result of the final Trial?"

"Yeah, along with the burns on his stomach, thighs, and the fever he had that we couldn't bring down," Dean answered for him.

Cas looked at Sam, and then over at Dean. "I understand."

"I wanted to come get you, man," Dean said, "But Sam -- "

"It's okay, Dean." There was a beat, and Cas looked down at his shoes, then up at Dean again. "Thank you for finding me."

"I didn't want you to think I abandoned you," Dean said, his voice intense. "It wasn't like that."

"I would never think that," Castiel said simply.

Sam cleared his throat, the way he always did when the two of them were sharing a moment that was threatening to turn awkward for him. "Let's get you inside the Impala, Cas. You must be freezing."

"I don't know why the Men of Letters chose the Midwest for their base of operations," Cas said as he got into the back seat. "There are so many other suitable climates in the United States."

* * * *

Sam and Cas were sitting at the map table in the Men of Letters bunker while Dean found some clothes and prepared a room for Cas to stay in.

"Dean was right to stop you from completing the Trials. Naomi wasn't lying. Nor was she lying about Metatron's plans for Heaven. I should have listened."

"You were doing what you thought was best at the time, Cas. Believe me, I understand completely."

"I overreached. Again. And now my brothers and sisters are hunting me."

"We're going to find a way to reverse the spell Metatron cast."

"Do you really think that's possible?" Castiel asked.

"It has to be."

"I hope that's the case. The angels don't deserve to be separated and lost from Heaven. It's frightening being alone."

Sam tried to imagine being thrust into a cold, angry, and inhospitable world where you weren't merely alone and scared, but experiencing all of those emotions for the first time as well. 

"You did well on your own, Cas. Dean won’t say it, but he was really worried about you."

"He doesn't have to say it. I can almost always tell."

"You can?"

"I may be human now, but we're still connected through the divine power of the Host. I touched his soul. That's not easily ignored."

"Can you hear what he's thinking?" Sam asked.

"No. It's more like...I can feel him. Sense him? It's difficult to put into words." Cas shook his head. "I suppose it's similar to being able to see lights despite your eyes being closed."

Sam thought back to waking up to the Christmas lights blinking even though his eyes were closed. "It's more of an impression then."

"Yes."

"The bond you share really is profound, like you said."

Castiel's face was open and honest when he answered, either as a result of his newfound humanity or simply because it was Cas being Cas. "Yes, Sam. It's a part of me, of us, for as long as I exist, and into Dean's eternity in Heaven."

Sam drummed his fingers on the table, wondering if what he was about to ask would breach some sort of angel/human etiquette.

"Can you only feel -- sense, whatever -- certain things from him?"

Cas was quiet a moment, measuring the question. "The connection was more intense when I was fully an angel. It's faded now, except when his emotions are exceptionally strong."

"Like when he's angry."

"Or worried. Or scared," Cas said. "Both of which I could sense when you walked into the police station this morning."

Sam knew he was right about his brother, and it all revolved around his feelings for Cas.

"Can other angels see -- or sense him, whatever?"

"No one can see him the way I do. He was the righteous man of Heaven's plan, however. He still radiates power."

The way in which Cas said that made Sam feel like he was asking particularly intimate questions about Dean and their relationship. Castiel's answer was forthright, but Sam could hear a reverence behind the words. But he was more surprised at what came next.

"As do you," Cas said.

"Me? You can sense me too?"

"Somewhat. We aren't connected the way your brother and I are, but you are powerful in your own right."

"Because of the Trials, you mean."

"No," Cas answered. He tilted his head slightly in the way he always did when confused about something. "Because you're Sam Winchester."

Sam didn't know what to say to that. Most of the time he never felt like anything other than a complete freak and screw-up.

"The boy with the demon blood," Sam said out loud, finishing his own silent thought. 

"The man who sacrificed his life for the good of humanity. The man who lost his soul and then suffered from the break in your wall because of me. The man who took on Lucifer and won."

"I always thought I was...y'know, an abomination."

"You are much more than that, Sam. You're my friend."

"I never knew that's how you felt, Cas," Sam said, slightly embarrassed.

"You never asked. You and your brother have that frustrating habit."

"What can you sense when you're around us? What does that mean exactly?" Sam asked.

"The best approximation I can make in human terms is color."

Sam wondered what it was like to have to put up with the constant dissonance of colors illuminating Dean at any given time. Knowing his brother, it must have been difficult for Cas.

"You sense the emotions from both of us with color?"

"It's an awareness, a sort of...perception I experience," Cas answered. "As I said, when I was an angel I could see both of you more clearly. The colors are only obvious now when Dean's emotions are strong."

"What colors were they?" Sam asked, intrigued.

"Anger? Yellow. Fear is white. I could see some purple this morning. Dean was worried."

"What about, uh, love?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"You mean the way he feels about you?"

Sam hadn't expected that. "No, but tell me anyway."

"It's blinding. Green. It's all I ever see when you and Dean are together, except on rare occasions like this morning, when I could see the purple from him. Green almost always drowns everything else out. What other way did you mean?"

"Romantic love."

Cas frowned. "I've yet to experience that."

"Even when you were around Lisa?"

"I wasn't there for very long, in her hospital room. Dean and I weren't on the best terms at the time. But no, as I recall I got the sense she was more family than a romantic connection."

Sam smiled sadly. "He did try."

"His feelings for you often overwhelm everything else in his life."

Sam didn't need angelic powers to identify the hint of regret in Castiel's tone. It was painful to hear because he knew it was true.

"How do you feel about him?" Sam asked Cas.

"In what way?"

Sam chose to be deliberately precise with his question.

"If it were Dean who could sense you, what would you want him to feel?"

Castiel sat there for a moment, his brow furrowed in thought. He seemed to be mentally weighing the question and the implications of his answer.

"Admiration," Cas finally responded. "The knowledge that I will never give up on him no matter what type of man he believes himself to be. For him to understand that he is worthy of happiness, and love, and that he deserves it despite his injured self-esteem. I would want him to see himself the way I see him -- dedicated, faithful, and even if he protests, heroic. He should know that I have never felt this way about anyone before, human or angel, and that I would be lost without him. He's brave, and selfless, and I would sacrifice myself a thousand times over to be assured that he was safe. And I would hope he could know that I have developed a fondness for his presence and I miss him when he's not here, to the exclusion of all other humans on this planet. No offense, Sam."

"Completely understood," Sam said, a little taken aback at the absolute honesty which Castiel displayed. He was right, of course. Neither he nor Dean had ever truly asked how Castiel _felt_ about much of anything, especially his relationship with Dean, and his emotions for this particular human were relatively new for an angel who had seen millennia pass him by. All of it had to be confusing and overwhelming. And, to Sam, totally unsurprising. Castiel had no idea how to put what he was feeling into words, much less express them to Dean. Dean was going to have to be the one to close the gap.

With that Dean came back into the room, holding towels and a plastic bin full of shower supplies.

"I got you all set up, Cas, down the hall from me. I put some extra clothes on the bed for you. Wait until you try out the shower."

He handed everything over to Castiel, who took it gratefully and left with an easy, "Thank you, Dean."

Dean flopped down into the seat Cas had just left.

"I was gone for a while. What were you guys talkin' about?"

"How important this Christmas is going to be," Sam answered, mentally preparing himself for what he was going to have to do.

* * * *

They tried to talk Kevin into staying for Christmas, but he was uneasy around Cas after what happened with him translating the angel tablet, and he decided he would spend it with Garth instead.

Sam thought Castiel's first Christmas as a human should be special, and talked to Dean about it.

"We need a tree _without_ an angel on top," he pointed out.

"That's no problem. We don't even _have_ a tree," Dean said.

"You should get one," Sam said.

"Why me?"

"Because he should feel like he's home. A Christmas tree during Christmas sorta helps."

Dean grumbled a bit, but later that night returned with a giant Douglas fir that perfectly fit the bunker's huge ceilings. He even remembered to buy lights, although the decorations were another matter.

"How could you buy a tree, and lights, and not decorations?" Sam asked, amazed.

"The last time we did this we had car air fresheners hangin' on it. I'm sure we can find some stuff around here."

Which was what brought them into the Men of Letters vaults, where Dean was picking through oddly shaped objects and curious collections looking for stuff that might belong on a tree. 

"You'd think they'd have a box labeled 'Xmas' like everyone else," Dean said, holding up a crystal that looked like it would look nice hanging from the tree. "Everything else here and no Christmas decorations."

"What's going to happen to Cas after this?" Sam asked, digging through a box of oddly carved wooden spheres.

"What do you mean?"

"Is he going to stay?"

"I...I dunno."

"Well, did you ask him?"

"Not exactly. I sorta just assumed," Dean answered.

"Assumed that he knows you want him around?"

"Yeah."

"Have you _ever_ told him that, Dean?"

Dean sat down on a chair nearby and put his foot up on a box. "I haven't, no."

"Why?"

"I -- "

"Are you afraid to tell him how you feel?"

Dean scoffed at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam pulled a chair over next to him and sat down.

"Life doesn't begin and end with me, Dean."

"I know that, Sammy."

"No, I don't think you do. You carried me out of that burning house once. You don't have to continue doing it every day of your life."

Dean frowned, and Sam could see anger slowly forming in his eyes.

"What are you sayin' here, Sam?"

"That I love you and always will, but you're allowed to be happy."

"We are. We have the bunker, and now Cas is here, and -- "

"I'm not talking us, Dean, I'm talking _you_. Yes, Cas is here. With you. Or he can be, if you let him."

"I don't understand."

"Dean, I've watched the two of you together for years. Everything we've been through, all that we've faced together, and you can't see it? You can't feel it? He's the one and only person in your life who is there for you, no matter what, aside from me. He's sacrificed his life for you, Dean. He has abandoned his world and his family, and everything he's known for _centuries_ because of _you_."

"What," Dean laughed, "you're sayin' I'm in love with him?"

"I am. I know you better than anyone could ever know you, and you've been fighting this. Why? No one is going to judge you. _I'm_ certainly not going to judge you. Is that what you're worried about? He loves you, and you know it."

" _Sammy_."

"He's already divided Heaven and Earth for you. He's conquered the depths of Hell for you. He has given himself to you, as your protector, as your savior, as your friend. Don't you see that?"

"Of course I do," Dean said softly, his voice filled with emotion.

"I've seen the way you change when you're around him, even when you think you hate his guts. How you're calmer, happier. You were scared out of your mind when he was alone out there. You're not hiding any of that from me, Dean. He can feel it too."

"What do you mean?"

"I asked him. Cas said he can sense you, that you're still connected because of your bond through Heaven."

"He knows what I'm thinkin'?" Dean asked.

"No, he can feel you, your emotions. He explained it like seeing colors. He can see the love between us as green."

"Green?"

"And other emotions, strong ones, from you. Yellow...purple too. He said he can't see it as well now that he's lost his powers. He only sees green around us, Dean."

"I don't get it."

"It's how he experiences the love between us. How much you love me, to the exclusion of _everything_ else. He can't feel you when we're together. We drown everything else out for him."

"You're my brother, Sammy. What else is he supposed to see?"

"He needs to see how you feel for him. You have to let him in. He doesn't know how to say it, but I think he's loved you since the beginning."

Dean could only shake his head.

"He has, and you know it. But you could never tell him. He doesn't know, Dean. He's loved you for so long and you've never been able to admit you're feeling the same way."

"I don't...I don't know how, Sammy. God, he's -- "

"He's what, Dean? He needs to hear it. He'll stay if you can only tell him."

"Cas is...everything to me. He's more than family, more than blood. I need him."

Sam put his hand on Dean's cheek. "There's nothing you deserve more in this life than love, Dean. You've given me everything. Now it's time to have something for yourself. Don't be afraid to want that."

Dean sighed deeply, and when he looked up at Sam there were tears in his eyes. 

"I don't know how to do this," he whispered.

"You already know how you feel. Trust me, he feels the same way. You just need to _say_ it."

Sam gave his brother a long hug, and followed him out of the room.

Castiel, dressed in Dean's clothes, was sitting on a couch in a small room that they had cleared out specifically to use for the tree. He was admiring the lights.

"I have witnessed a few Christmas traditions in my time on Earth," he said, still facing the tree, "but I thought there were supposed to be decorations -- "

Cas stopped as soon as Dean and Sam walked into the room. When he turned around, he held his hand up to his eyes, shielding them.

" _Dean_?"

"Yeah, Cas."

"You...you're..."

Dean had to swallow before he answered. "What color, Cas?"

He squinted, and stepped closer. "Gold. Such a bright, warm gold. And..." He looked between Dean and Sam. "What's happened?"

Dean closed the space between them and brought their lips together, kissing Cas deeply. When they finally separated, Dean didn't let him go.

"It's something I should have told you a long time ago," he said softly.

Cas met his eyes, and gave him a little grin. "I think I already know."

"No, I have to say it."

Dean glanced back at Sam, who nodded.

"I love you, Castiel. And I want you to stay. We're a family, and you belong here. Always."

They embraced again, and Sam turned to leave them alone.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"Thank you."

"For what?" he asked.

"Dean is gold... _and_ green. I can feel you too."

That was the proof Sam needed to know Dean had truly allowed himself to finally love another person more than he did him. It felt liberating, realizing that whatever they were to face in the future, be it fallen angels or the damage done by the Trials or new horrors, that his brother would be able to go on without him. Knowing that was more important to him than anything they had gone up against before.

Sam smiled at him. "Merry Christmas, Cas," he said, watching his brother still holding Cas in his arms. 

He turned to go, but Dean stopped him.

"Where do you think you're goin'?" he asked, breaking off from Cas and taking hold of Sam's arm.

"To...y'know...give you some privacy."

Dean laughed at him, a sound so pure and filled with joy it nearly brought tears to Sam's eyes. "We need to decorate the tree, Ginormo. You're the only one tall enough to put the star on top."

"Sam," Cas said, "Dean once told me you made, in his words, a 'kick-ass egg nog,' for Christmas, whatever that is. I would like to try it."

"Yeah, sure," he said, putting his arms around both his brother and Castiel. "We have a lot to celebrate."


End file.
